Rider at the Gate

He wanted no more trouble. He’d had a go at the land alone, it was damned spooky out there even without the remotest hint of whatever might be on their backtrail, and he hoped Cloud would be content finally, now that they were headed upland.

He’d at least calmed himself enough he could be sure he wasn’t sending out a constant broadcast of his concerns, and he was sure that made Cloud calmer.

But he couldn’t but look over his shoulder from time to time.

“They’re not going to be that careless,” Jonas said finally.

“Yes, sir,” he said meekly. Yes, sir, after being left on his own in the wild seemed the best answer to anything and everything Jonas or any of the others said to him. He was not going to get into trouble again. He was notgoing to afford these men an excuse to look down on him.

Cloud had to try to bite Shadow just then. Had to, though Cloud deliberately pulled the nip short of Shadow’s flank—deliberate provocation, status-battle, and nighthorse tempers flared for a jolting moment.

“Boy,” Jonas said.

“Yes, sir,” he said, embarrassed, taking Cloud’s rebellion for his fault, which only made Cloud madder.

“You have a problem, boy. Do you think you can fix it, or do you want to ride home now?”

<Juniors laughing,> was his immediate and mortified thought. “He’s just never worked with a group. I’ll pull back some.”

“You going to spend your life pulling back some, or what, boy?”

“My name’s Dan, sir.” It had to be Cloud’s influence. His face was burning. His heart was beating hard. He might pull back from making a direct and personal challenge of Jonas’ authority—that was farthest from his mind; but he wasn’t going to tuck down and take it from all of them for the rest of the trip, either, and that was one boy too many for Karl Fisher’s son. “You asked me to come along to help find Stuart, and I take that for a promise. But I don’t pick up anything right now. So I’ll ride back behind till I do, thanks.”

“Got you,” Hawley said dryly. “Kid’s got you, Jonas. It was your idea to bring him. I told you.”

Jonas wasn’t happy. Or didn’t look it. Da

But < fight > wasn’t what came from Jonas or from Shadow. Some impression slid past him, something nebulous and fast and without edges, a piece of something he didn’t understand, and Jonas dropped back, too, in clear intention to speak with him, as Cloud and Shadow went unwillingly side by side.

“Kid,” Jonas said. It was an improvement on ‘boy.’ And Da

“I don’t want to, sir.” The juniors would know—he broadcast the fear of that humiliation without in the least wanting to. He tried to image himself on convoy, instead, riding guard with senior riders. He’d done that: it was the truth. “I can pull my own weight, I’ve no question.”

“I have. You can’t stay on your horse. That’s bad news up there.”

“Now, ease off, Jonas.” Luke Westman had dropped alongside, on Jonas’ other side. “I can recall the day.”

Jonas sent him a surly look. But everybody got the image, Jonas taking a tumble right over Shadow’s neck. And Hawley had to laugh.

Da

That brought a silence from Jonas, further guffaws from Hawley and Luke, and he’d rather have died, right then, fallen right off Cloud’s back and died right on the road at their feet.

“His horse is a damn problem,” Jonas said—and just once Da

Threaten Cloud, disparage Cloud? Not to his face. He wasn’t going to put up with it. < Cattle, > he thought, to that idea.

“Ouch,” Hawley said, and Jonas and Luke were frowning, while Hawley shook his head and imaged <Quiet grass. Quiet water.>

“Damn strong, is what he is,” Luke said. “Noisy horse. Must have learned from that old sod Wesson. —But bullying your way through doesn’t serve you well out here, kid. Take a strong dose of quiet. You aren’t in town now, and strong sending like that can bring all sorts of attention. — Don’tgo surly with us. That’s goodadvice.”

“You want me to leave?” He was mad, he’d been insulted all he was willing to bear, he’d embarrassed himself. He couldn’t stand it.

“Go backtrail in that kid-fit, boy,” Jonas said, “and you’ll find trouble that won’t give a damn about your sweet feelings. Throw some water on that temper of yours, first off. Your horse doesn’t need that kind of trouble. You’re no help to him. Youkeep him agitated. You twitch, all the time. Knees. Feet. Elbows. Let the horse for-God’s-sake aloneten minutes in an hour.”

Damned outsider didn’t know what Cloud needed and didn’t need. He did.

“I said, throw some water on it. You’re a fool. If you want to fight about it, you and I can get off right here and settle who’s taking orders and who’s giving them.”

“I never said—”

“You don’t have to say anything, town-kid. You shout it. You didn’t grow up with the horses, you never have got it through your head that full-throttle isn’t the way to take a steep, and you haven’t had anybody give a damn enough to tell you how damn noisy you are, have you?”

<Stuart,> flashed to mind, and mad as he was, he was embarrassed, sure the man was reading it all out of his mind, somehow.

Which was stupid: the horses couldn’t figure human experience. The horses wouldn’t know how his father dealt with him. Horses didn’t clearly know what a father was, scarcely recognized a mother…

God.

Cloud jostled under him, angry at his distress, he realized, and he tried to calm Cloud with his hands. He couldn’t organize his thoughts. They were scattering every which way… <beads hitting a floor. Mama’s necklace. Mama and papa yelling at each other.>

<Mama and Denis and Sam and a roof over his head most of his life, and the drafts coming through until there was plaster—>

“Kid. Get down. Get off.”

“I don’t want to fight you.” <Knives. Fringes flying. Blood hitting the dirt.> He was scared of Jonas. He’d die in a knife-fight, he had no question. He didn’t know how to fight except with his fists. And Cloud didn’t want him to fight—Cloud shied off on the road toward the edge, ears flat.

“I didn’t say fight, I said get the hell off. I want to talk to you, fool kid.”

He wasn’t sure. It might be a trick. Probably to humiliate him. Cloud wasn’t pleased. Cloud thought <Bite and kick,> and argued with him to get in range of Jonas. But the other riders were trying to calm the ambient and keep the horses apart.

Then Jonas was sliding down. So he did, floppy baggage and all, ready to <fight.>

“Just walk with me,” Jonas Westman said, and waved his arm in the direction they were generally going.

He still thought it still might be Jonas’ intent to drop him. But they could shoot him if they meant him real harm and not just to deal out the knocks juniors took. He tried, shakily, to calm Cloud down.

“Kid,” Jonas said. “No trick. Talk. Come on.”

He wasn’t sure what Jonas had to say to him was going to be better than hitting him. It was probably going to be direct and rude and it was probably going to make him mad, and he didn’t know if he could stop Cloud now that he wasn’t on Cloud’s back.